


You Hate So Good

by Queenie_Mab



Series: PJO ficlets and oneshots [37]
Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan, The Heroes of Olympus - Rick Riordan
Genre: Angst and Porn, Awkward Sexual Situations, Bathing/Washing, Biting, Blackmail, Blood, Book 2: The Son of Neptune, Canon Compliant, Canon Era, Closeted Character, Coercion, Denial, Extremely Dubious Consent, Frottage, Hand Jobs, Hate Sex, Implied/Referenced Cheating, M/M, Power Dynamics, Resolved Sexual Tension, Revenge, Role Reversal, Shameless Smut, Temporary Amnesia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-21
Updated: 2015-10-21
Packaged: 2018-04-27 12:12:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5048113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Queenie_Mab/pseuds/Queenie_Mab
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A missing scene from canon - From the Son of Neptune. After Percy finally gets a chance to visit the Roman Baths, he's dragged down and nearing rock bottom, Octavian of all people, ends up lifting his spirits again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Hate So Good

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Overanalyzer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Overanalyzer/gifts).



> Overanalyzer, this gift's for you. It's not quite what I had planned originally, but it is what ended up happening. 
> 
> Written for the [Rarepairproject](http://rarepairproject.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr for Week Three. The prompt was a random line of dialogue: "Oh yeah, you really told him, didn’t you?" and the pairing Percy/Octavian. 
> 
> The time limit was supposed to be 60 minutes or less. Yeah? Well, I'll take those rules and not follow them.. What'cha gonna do about it, punk? XD

~*~

After what feels like forever, I'm finally going to get a bath. I follow Frank across the field again, my sights set only on my destination. I swear, after two or was it three days of killing the gorgon sisters over and over and over again, carrying bag lady Juno across the freeway and into this weird-ass gladiator convention, getting my super-strength sapped from crossing a river, and then being grilled by Reyna, by that bratty scarecrow dude with the freaky eyes, and then having goosebump alarms going off all over when I met that Pluto kid, Nico … You know what? I think that's enough to be getting on with for even Hercules himself to start begging for soap and hot water.

I grin so huge as I grab the door handle to the bath house. Frank takes a step back and wrinkles his nose. 

"I uh, I'll be back for you in half an hour," he says, then furrows his eyebrows and rubs at the back of his head. "Make that forty-five minutes. You look like you could use a soak."

"Gee, thanks," I tell him, stone-faced, and then my conscience prickles as his face falls. "No really, buddy," I say, cracking a smile and giving his bicep a playful punch. "I appreciate it, the extra time." 

I've never been more relieved to see somebody roll their eyes at me and walk away; at least, I don't think I have. I've got amnesia, okay? Gimme a break. Big dude looked like he was about ready to cry, and I can't deal with that right now. It's not my fault my sense of humor is whack.

I find the changing room with no problem and peel off my stinking clothes with relish. There is so much water nearby, I can taste it in the air, and then a miracle happens. I shove my clothes inside one of a row of freaking wash/dry machines. The only part of the sign that matters to me is the part that says: **Wash and Dry - 25 minutes**. I kiss the glass door and wipe a tear from my eye after the machine begins to fill with soapy water. Sue me. I show my gratitude for a free clothes washing. Doesn't matter to me if it's a person or a machine. 

After stowing my shoes and backpack in the cubby above the washing machine – Riptide carefully tucked into a hidden pocket in the fabric – I head down a long stone hallway, looking longingly through the windows lining it at the Olympic-sized swimming pool beyond. But for the stink I have going on, I figure the Hot Room is where I need to be right now. I do promise myself that if I'm able to sneak away later, I'll come back and give that pool a trial run. 

When I open the door, a wall of steam hits me in the face and it feels so good, boosts my spirits and my energy to the point I think I actually whoop out loud. I drop my towel and slide into the hot tub without another thought. I dunk my head and pop back up into the steamy fog grinning like an idiot, but I don't even care. I hit the soap dispenser mounted along the edge and start to lather up before I realize I'm not in here alone. 

A throat clears as I'm scrubbing away. 

"Don't mind me, man. I'm so made for this." I dunk myself again and swirl the water around me in mini whirlpools to get the soap out of my hair and dispersed in the enormous tub to the point it'll be unlikely for that same dirt to find my body again. I surface once more and then drop onto the bench lining the tub, right in front of a jacuzzi nozzle. It turns on by itself, maybe magic or maybe motion sensitive, whatever it is, I make a happy little sound and silently thank my father for being awesome. 

The voice grunts as I relax my muscles, feeling the tension in my shoulders roll off with the burst of water behind me. I open my eyes at the exact moment a really buff guy passes in front of me – bronzed skin, short spiky black hair, almond eyes, wide flat nose, pecs that would take about six of my hands to cup … and damn … a helluva fine ass, rippling with muscle as he climbs out of the tub and disappears in the steam vapor, all without sparing me a second's glance. 

I swallow, realizing at once that my hand is between my legs and stroking my very hard dick, washing it, rather. It feels a real shame to go to all the trouble of getting clean and to ignore this part. 

I close my eyes, resting the back of my head against the edge of the tub and let myself do what feels good. I'm too tired to fight now. Too tired for anything more than …

"I agree," another voice says from the cloud of steam off to my right. "Michael has some rather … appealing attributes." 

I stop stroking and hold my dick in place, pissed off more than I can explain as it pulses under my hand as if complaining at me for stopping when the show was in full swing. But I recognize the new voice and it's not one I want to hear while I'm jerking off. 

"Octavian." I say simply. If I weren't so desperate to get a single decent good night of sleep and eager for the possibility of coming back for the swimming pool, I might be tempted to 'accidentally' send that scarecrow over the side of the tub and smash his head into the wall for a few minutes of peace and quiet. I focus on breathing in and out, taking in the good feels of water and strength and sending out the bad feels of annoyance and fantasies of murder. It's not the time or place, I tell myself. Or really my style. Is it? 

The slimeball augur is suddenly quite close, too close. Our thighs are touching; my dick is not going soft. I hate the way my heart speeds up. 

His breath hits my ear, even as I refuse to look at him. "I read more about you in my auguries than I told you back at the temple," he breathes, his stupid voice reaching inside my brain like a freaking steam-snake and wrapping it up until I can't hear anything else. "I know things about you that you have forgotten, things that would raise even the thunder god's eyebrows."

I squeeze my traitorous dick, hoping the small measure of pain will make it go back down. It doesn't work. I drop my hand onto my thigh and talk straight ahead, refusing to turn and meet that pale, angular face. "Yeah? So?" 

So what do I think? I'm not fucking stupid. It's obvious from the way Octavian talked to Hazel and from what she said about him to me afterward that he's big on blackmailing people. I guess holding fast to the amnesia is my best strategy. I've gotten out of more scrapes than I can count by playing dumb. At least, I think I have. Instead of cursing my lack of memory, this time, I'm glad for it. 

Octavian huffs. A funny little irritated sound. I grin despite myself, my dick bobbing along in the water like it's nodding in agreement. "You know, son of _Neptune_ ," he says, his voice dripping with disdain when he says my father's name. "I would have expected more willingness to prove your worth, being the offspring of the great Earth-shaker and all. But …" he sighs, "I should have expected as much after the dirt your pillow pet dished up on you."

Okay, that right there was hitting below the belt. This dude just brought up my Pandy. The only comfort I'd had the past who-the-hell-knows-how-long and that he murdered in full flufficide right before my eyes. 

I turn to face him, my anger building under my skin, heating my cheeks even more than the water and the steam. "What, oh great and scary Oogie Boogie, did you read in the innocent cotton balls of my friend?" 

His eyes are even more off-putting close up, his face red and twisted with amusement or offense. I dunno. Sociopaths are hard to read. 

"I read the name of a few of your friends. Graeci, all of them, but you wouldn't remember them anyway I suppose." My heart stops momentarily and he pauses, starting back up as my pulse races to make up the missed beats. It's not possible. _Annabeth_. My face heats up even more, only this time with shame. My erection finally softens. He couldn't possible have read her name in Pandy's stuffing. No. He's a con-man. Hazel as good as confirmed it, but can a con-man make the weather change directly above a temple? I stare at Octavian's moving lips, not even pretending to listen to him. I want to bite them off, to shut him up, to make him scream. 

He chuckles and my whole body seizes up, muscles going tense as he rests his hand on my thigh directly behind mine. "You didn't hear I word I just said, did you, Percy Jackson?" The way he says my last name makes me think of a hissing snake snapping its jaws. 

"No," I grit out, clenching my teeth. "I was too busy imagining you with a bloody lip."

He raises an eyebrow. "Hmm? Kinky." He slips his hand lower, not breaking eye contact and wraps his fingers around my dick, surprising me once more as I realize I'm hard again. 

He starts to stroke and I can't recall why I'm not stopping him. Why am I letting him touch me? _Gods._ It just feels so good to have somebody else touching me like this. Connecting me to reality. Anchoring me to the world or something. Seven months? Has it really been _seven_ months since I've jerked off?

I shudder. 

"Seven months," he says, and I wonder if I had actually been thinking aloud. 

I bite my bottom lip and push up with my hips when he slows his strokes. 

"I read that. You haven't come in seven months."

I nod stupidly, bucking my hips to meet his slippery grip. Close. So very close. 

"The most surprising thing I read, though," he prattles on in that annoying-as-Hades'-bitch face way of his, "was that you kept it a secret. The guys you thought about while you jerked yourself to sleep at night. You kept that a secret from the girl. She has blond hair. Your girlfriend?"

I nod. My emotions are making my sinuses a juicy mess of heat and stuffiness. My eyes prickle, but I still don't try to stop him. In fact, he's slowed down the point I want to get him to speed up again and instead of worrying about the crappy guilt trip he's trying to lay on me, I'm trying to figure out how to get off in his hand. And then, I catch it – his weakness. It's only a glimmer in his eyes, but seeing it fade as I refuse to rise to his bait gives me an idea. 

"I have amnesia," I tell him, staring into his eyes and relying on the blatant truth of my words to back me up. I _do_ recall Annabeth, and nobody else, but I can't be certain that she actually _is_ my girlfriend. It's fully possible that she could my sister, or my best friend, or even gay herself. But denying her isn't part of my admission to Octavian now, and I push my single memory to the back of my mind, protecting it from what I'm about to do. "You, do not," I say to Octavian. "But I know what you do have." I focus my powers over the water to hold Octavian's butt in place on the bench, to sweep his hand off my dick. Then, I shift, flipping my position and straddling Octavian's lap, my hand around his dick. 

The veins in his eyes seem to pulse, standing out even more red against the white, making his sweet baby blue irises look as if they've been sullied in blood. He makes his face a mask, hiding his emotions behind a blank expression, but it's too late for that. I catch the pulse in his neck jumping faster through his skinny frame, his too pale skin. I watch his lips struggle to not twitch, and I meet his glare of hatred, a thrill of exhilaration running through my chest. 

"Michael, you said his name was? This game you're playing with me now, you play it with him too, don't you?"

I start slow lazy strokes, feeling his dick grow even harder in my hand, the water pressure keeping his butt planted where it is. He doesn't respond with words, but he doesn't really need to. The way his pulse dances in his neck, how it throbs against my hand tells me all I need to know. Octavian has been ramped up for quite a while. The heat from the steam machine and the hot water has pushed his blood pressure up. He needs to come quickly and get back to a normal temperature soon. 

Unfortunately for him, I have a few things left to say. "He wasn't happy when you asked him to leave, was he? He knew you were planning to make a move on me, didn't he?"

I tickle the frenulum of Octavian's cock with my thumb, smiling as he melts under the stimulation. His jaw slackens. I back off a little as he draws his eyebrows together into a sharp V. "So what if he did? It's just a hand job. It's not like it _means_ anything."

I move my thumb to the side and push my dick up alongside Octavian's, barely holding back the groan that rises in my throat as I close my fist around us both. 

Octavian mewls against his will, catching himself and holding his breath to stop it. It gives me enough leeway to control my own noises and to grill him further. "It means something to him, doesn't it? The way he didn't even acknowledge my presence, the way he grunted before he left, like he was really put out."

I buck my hips, sliding our cocks against each other, my balls nearly reaching the head of his cock and then sinking back down onto where his balls dip between his thighs. The squelching sounds the water makes are positively filthy. 

"What do you expect?" he spits out, then hisses as I add a twist right at the base of his foreskin. "He's the son of _Venus_. I told him what we do means nothing, isn't anything more than ... ah, ah, ah …" he stutters as I retract his foreskin and mine and push our cock heads up against each other. "… stress relief," he finishes as I let up on the pressure and fall back to the gentle sliding again. I move my free hand up his narrow chest and pinch one of his small pink nipples. 

He bites his bottom lip, his thighs clenching under mine as he struggles to move his ass. I shake my head. "Oh yeah? You really told him, didn't you?" I grin as he realizes why he can't move his butt off the bench. "You really told him so he'd get rough with you, so he'd curse himself for trusting you … But you. are. full. of. shit. And Michael can see it. That's why he comes back."

I slow my stroking down, my own orgasm isn't very far off and I want to tell this scumbag off now. Establish once and for all who's the bigger power between us. Spoiler alert: Octavian ain't it. 

"Doesn't matter." Octavian says, then cries out as I pinch his nipple even harder. "Doesn't change a thing. I could tell any of the legionnaires about your secret. I could send messages out into the mortal world to make sure your friends know you are a fraud."

Instead of scaring me, his words turn me on even more. It isn't the words themselves, but how desperately he says them. He's grasping at straws. I smirk at him, fixing my eyes on his, staring him down as Lupa taught me, and I know he knows that's what I'm doing, that he won't look away until I break him. I jerk our cocks more deliberately, setting a rhythm that will end in us coming in minutes. 

"I'm _not_ an Ogre, but I read all this about you and Michael from holding your dick in my hand."

"Ahhh-" his voice rises before he catches himself, deepening it with force. "gur..." he gasps. 

"What?"

"Augur, you dolt. Not _Ogre_." 

I ignore him, him and his prissy little perfect grammar. My eyes still on his, I send a little whirlpool swirling around our dicks, freeing up my other hand. I pinch both his nipples, and hold back my own orgasm from sheer willpower as I lean closer, our noses nearly touching. 

"I can read your secrets now. You have told me nothing but what you read in my body language. And that is the truth. The supposed mastery you have of reading the stuffing from slaughtered Teddy bears is all. a. lie. The storm rising above the very temple you work in – smoke and mirrors. I can prove it." 

I'm lying, but he doesn't need to know that. All he needs to know is that I think I'm serious about what I'm saying and that I would ruin his reputation immediately if he doesn't give. 

His dick jerks next to mine, a death throe spasm - of the petite variety - and he shifts his gaze from mine, down, submitting. 

Awesome. There's just one more thing I need to seal my victory. I swipe my tongue over his lips – his jaw dropping, lips parting – and then I bite, hard. Not hard like biting his lip off, but hard enough to taste blood. 

His scream is the sweetest sound. Truly a musical gift from his patron god, Apollo, and the perfect accompaniment to crest to orgasm on, seven months of pent up need pumping out of me in wave after wave of relief. I crash our foreheads together, both of us breathing hard and fast, Octavian trembling underneath me as if he were cold. 

"Admit it, bitch. Hate sex. That's your kink."

He says nothing, and I swipe my tongue over his bleeding lip once more, his hiss like an aftershock of pleasure racing through my nerves. I push back and climb off of his lap, dizzy for a moment at standing up so quickly. 

I climb out of the tub and wrap my towel around my waist. I can still see Octavian even through the steam clouds, the vapor growing thinner and I realize the timer must have gone off. Good. Little dipshit won't actually pass out from hypertension if I leave him in here. That's a load off my conscience. 

I look at him one last time, preparing to release the water's grip on his butt, my finger raised. "You keep my secrets, I keep yours. You can hate me anytime you need to in here. Understand?"

I take his head dropping forward, his chin to his chest as a yes, and point my finger down, setting his ass free. I whistle as I walk back to the changing room to meet Frank. I feel a million times better than I had before. Octavian isn't so bad once you learn how to use him.


End file.
